


Worthy of Everything

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Ric Grayson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:54:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27706544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: Grayson, who had left them. Grayson, who didn’t remember a single thing. Grayson, who Damian had finally let himself accept was out of his life. Forever. Dead to him. Gone. And now his ringtone was going off.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne
Comments: 53
Kudos: 435





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> One day I’ll stop writing post-Ric/post-Robin reunions happening over the phone for these two, but not today. Wrote/edited this in an hour, and literally all based around the three paragraphs of Dick professing his love. I got that dialogue stuck in my head all week and needed a reason to write it. Sorry it sucks/is disjointed. I just want Dick to hold his son in canon again dammit. Also reminder that I tend to write Damian as a reflection of myself for cathartic/coping reasons so take that for what you will about my mental health/self image ha haAA~

It surprised him, when his phone rang.

Not _because_ it rang. Oh no, it was practically ringing off the hook these days. Once, his phone went dead without him ever touching it because it rang so often in just the few hours of that morning.

People trying to find him. People pretending to care. Pretending to be his family. His friends.

Whatever.

But no, his phone ringing this time…it was surprising. Shocking, actually.

Because it was Grayson’s ringtone.

Grayson, who had left them. Grayson, who didn’t remember a single thing. Grayson, who Damian had finally let himself accept was out of his life. Forever. Dead to him. Gone.

And now his ringtone was going off.

Dick was the only one he ever took the time to change a ringtone for. Everyone else was the default, even his parents. Because he didn’t care enough. And they didn’t care enough for him either.

Because it’s not like anyone else called him.

(Jon did. But Jon was now thousands of years in the future, and reception there is spotty at best.)

The short song was going through its third repetition now, phone twisting as it vibrated on the table. The screen was clearer now. The name _Richard Grayson_ shone brightly.

He’d been avoiding calls. Avoiding this phone. Now it was like an out-of-body experience, watching his hand reach out and grab it.

He hit the button to answer, and slowly brought it up to his ear, but didn’t say anything. Still wasn’t completely sure it wasn’t a trick. Wasn’t completely sure he wasn’t dreaming.

He heard breathing on the line. He breathed back.

Finally, softly: “I know you’re there, kiddo.”

Damian’s breath hitched, and he swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.

This wasn’t real, he decided. Because Grayson was _gone_. Grayson wasn’t coming back. He accepted that. He’d finally, _finally_ accepted that.

So instead of a greeting, he demanded, albeit dumbly, “How did you get this number?”

There was a moment of quiet, then Dick laughed.

“It’s the same number you’ve always had.” Damian could hear the smile in Dick’s voice. “So it’s still saved in my phone.”

“…If you’re looking for Batman, I’m not with him.” Damian deflected. Because, still, this couldn’t be real. This _wasn’t_. It was _not_. “Call Superman for his contact.”

The sense of joy vanished immediately. “I know.” Dick murmured blankly. “I know you’re not with Bruce.” A pause. “Tell me where you are.”

And Damian’s muscle memory was, of course, to tell him everything. Spill your life and your heart and your soul to this man like you have so many times before. Tell him how much it hurts, breathing. How much it hurts to exist anymore. How lonely you are, how lost. Tell him your fears, listen for the hope he always so freely gave.

But then his brain caught up.

Don’t do that. Because Grayson is gone.

This…this _isn’t_ Grayson.

This is a _trick_.

He inhaled sharply. “You’ve always been bad at imitations, _Father_.” He spat. “And this is your most pathetic attempt yet.”

“No – no wait, Damian.” A near gasp. “Please don’t hang up!”

Damian found his hand tensing around the phone. Found himself, inexplicably, obeying.

“It’s not your dad. I’m not your dad. I.” Dick seemed to stumble over his words a little. “I came home, Damian.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Liar.”

“Why would I lie to you?” Dick demanded. “When have I _ever_ lied to you?” He huffed in annoyance, and maybe…maybe a little something else. Pain? Desperateness? “Look, it’s not something to explain over the phone, okay? But I…I remembered. I remembered and I came home, and Bruce…” Dick’s voice changed now to anger. “Bruce told me what happened, what he did to clearly fuck it all up again, and that he hasn’t found you yet.”

Damian didn’t respond to that.

“I want to find you.” Dick whispered. “I…I _need_ to find you, Damian. I need to _see_ you.” A sigh. “I just need to make sure you’re okay.”

Damian glanced out the nearby window, stared across the Gotham skyline. He saw no silhouettes of vigilantes. No shadows that he could convince himself were moving. It was still too early. The sun wasn’t completely set yet. Not time for anyone to start patrol.

He didn’t realize he’d spoken until after he did.

“…Why?”

“Why…?” Dick breathed in a mimicry. “Why do I need to…” More sounds that weren’t words. Just confusion. Just disbelief. “Because I _love_ you, Damian.”

Damian immediately scoffed. Opened his mouth to respond. “You-”

“And you know what’s great about that?” Dick cut off with a frustrated drawl. “You don’t get to tell me I _can’t_.”

Damian’s mouth snapped shut.

“You don’t get to tell me if I’m _allowed_ to love you or not. You don’t get to control _my_ emotions, or give me reasons _you_ think I _shouldn’t_. Because I’m going to anyway. Because I _do_ anyway.” There was a manic-ness in his voice now. A panic. A near-fury. “And _because_ I love you, because I _miss_ you, I’m going to _find_ you. Whether you want to be found or not.”

There was no other sound on Dick’s end of the line, but Damian found his eyes darting across Gotham anyway, looking for a weightless man. Looking for Nightwing.

“I only called as a courtesy. I thought…I thought maybe you’d want to see me too. So you’d tell me.” Dick was calm again. Quiet. Thoughtful. Hiding the sadness. “But that’s fine. I was just hoping for a hint. But I’ll find you without one. That’s fine too. You know me, I love a challenge.”

Damian felt his lips tremble. Tears well into his eyes.

With Father, it was easy. Because Father didn’t use words. Father barely looked at him. So there was never that awkward moment of love being professed to him. He knew, deep down, maybe, that his father, his family, loved him. And most days, that was good enough.

But assuming, hoping, _dreaming_ you were loved was never good enough for Dick Grayson. He had to let you know, be 100% _sure_ you knew. He had to _tell_ you.

And he’d told Damian that before. Many times. But it’d never hit as hard as it did right now, as he stood in an empty apartment, on the phone with the person he cared for most. With the person who…with the _only_ person who found him _worthy_. Who he thought was gone, out of his life for the rest of eternity.

And even after all these years, it was so much. _Too_ much.

And he just didn’t deserve it.

Knew he didn’t deserve it. Just as Grayson knew how much he loved him despite that anyway.

“…Grayson?”

Because this wasn’t a trick. This wasn’t a dream. This was _real_.

He sounded so childish. So weak. He closed his eyes and scolded himself, even as the tears leaked through and down his cheeks anyway. Let disappointment wash through him even as his breaths became ragged and snot filled his nose.

Grayson had come back to him. Despite everything he was and everything he’d done, Grayson came back to him. Grayson still loved him.

“I’m here, kiddo. It’s me. I’m coming to get you.” Dick murmured gently. A second to think, then try again. “Just tell me where you are.”

Damian silently shook his head, slowly crumbling to the floor. He pulled his knees to his chest, hid his face in the crook of his arm.

“I’m not taking you back to Bruce, or the manor, or anything. We’ll go back to my place. You’re coming with _me_. You’re _staying_ with me. No matter what. I promise.” Dick continued. Then repeated, softer, “Just please tell me where you are, Damian.”

So, sitting on the floor, sobbing, feeling relieved and hopeful and loved and knowing he didn’t deserve a second of any of those emotions – Damian did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve spent the last three years promising him that you _loved_ him. That you’d do _anything_ for him. And here, it turns out, I was the fool, wasn’t I?”  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Titus and Alfred cat were already in Dick’s car waiting for him. Dick is also fully aware that the reason for Damian’s breakdown is Alfred’s death and his amnesia.

When Bruce came into the kitchen, he expected, frankly, no one. It was early in the morning after an awfully long and less-than-satisfactory night. He expected his kids to be asleep. They _should_ all be asleep. They deserved that and then some.

Instead, he found everyone sitting around the kitchen table, watching silently as Dick packed a duffle bag on the island nearby.

At first, he let his brows furrow in confusion. Dick was the only one _not_ on patrol last night. In fact, Bruce hadn’t seen him in a few days. That was normal, Dick was always moving. Always travelling. No big deal.

But then he took in what Dick was packing. Food. Socks. Titus’s leash. Cat treats.

His frowned deepened.

“Where is he?” He asked bluntly.

Dick didn’t look at him. “You must be pretty damn stupid if you think I’m going to tell you.”

“And why not?”

“Because he’s been gone…” Dick glanced at the calendar on the fridge. “Seven weeks now? Almost two months?” He glanced over. “When was the last time you looked for him?”

Bruce pursed his lips. In his periphery, he saw Cassandra and Duke glance at each other. “…I’ve been busy. Gotham needed me.”

“No, your fucking son needed you.” Dick spat. “He’s needed you for a _long_ time. You just don’t give a shit.”

Bruce scowled. “Yes I do.”

“No, you don’t!” Dick yelled back. “Because if you did, it would have never gotten to the point he’d feel the need to run. It would have never gotten to the point where he’s having a…a…a fucking _mental breakdown_ in the middle of an alleyway in front of his team!” Dick jabbed his finger at him. “If you gave a shit, you wouldn’t be _standing here_ right now. You’d be out there, like you would have been out there day and night the last seven weeks, running yourself ragged. If you gave a shit, you wouldn’t be able to rest until you brought your son home.”

Bruce glanced at the family across the room. None of them were looking at him. Guilt and embarrassment was clear across their features, like Dick was talking to them too.

“Gotham wasn’t safe.” He tried. “How can I bring my son home to a place that isn’t _safe_ -”

“Gotham is _never_ safe!” Dick threw his hands in the air. “It wasn’t safe when he first came here. It wasn’t _safe_ when you brought him back to _life_. That’s just a fucking excuse, and a poor one at that.” He stepped towards Bruce. Bruce saw Tim start to stand from the table, but both Cassandra and Jason pulled him back into his seat. “How many times, huh? How many times have all of us _begged_ you to go find Damian? That we had the city covered, that things were calm enough. How many times did we _plead_ with you to go find him? To bring _our brother_ home?”

Bruce kept his gaze focused on Dick.

“Too many, that’s how many times.” Dick murmured, disappointment clear in his voice. Like a scolding father. He closed his eyes and snorted, shaking his head. “And I can’t believe you made me…”

Bruce waited, but Dick didn’t continue. “Made you what?”

“Lie to him.” Dick said darkly, opening his eyes. “I’ve spent the last three years promising him that you _loved_ him. That you’d do _anything_ for him. And here, it turns out, I was the fool, wasn’t I?”

“Don’t.” Bruce warned. “Don’t you _dare_ imply that I don’t-”

“I’m not implying a damn thing. I’m _telling_ you.” Dick countered. “I called him, you know. The other day. I reached out. Let him know I was back, that I was coming to find him. Do you know what he said?”

Bruce crossed his arms. “What?”

“Nothing.” Dick practically bared his teeth as he spoke. “He said _nothing_ because he was too busy _sobbing_ after I told him I loved him. It was like he’d never heard the fucking words before in his life.” Dick inhaled sharply. “And I realize now, you know? He probably fucking _hasn’t_. Not from _you_.”

Bruce bit his tongue, and his nerves screamed in pain. “Where is my son, Dick?”

Dick pursed his lips in thought for a moment. Glanced absently back at the table. Barbara nodded encouragingly at him, so he turned back. “I don’t think you have the right to call him that anymore.”

Bruce stepped forward now. Moved until they were chest to chest, and Dick was forced to stare up at him. But his eyes never wavered, and Bruce could practically see the tiny flames of anger in the back of his pupils.

He heard the scraping of chairs. Noticed Stephanie and Duke had stood.

“You would dare take me son from me?” Bruce hissed.

“No.” Dick answered simply. “But I would dare to go find him and take him somewhere safe. Take him where he can _heal_.” He lifted his chin. “Somewhere he will _know_ absolute and unconditional _love_.”

Bruce exhaled.

“And that is not here.” Dick said, with an air of finality. “That is not with _you_.”

Without thinking, Bruce lashed out, grabbing Dick’s bicep in as tight as grip as he could give. Dick only winced in pain, but otherwise didn’t flinch.

“Bruce.” Barbara now, as the rest of the family stood. “Let him go. _Now_.”

“You will bring Damian home. You will bring _my son_ back to _me_.” Bruce growled. “That is an _order_.”

Dick never looked away, and never showed any emotion. Just blinked slowly, waited a moment, then spun, clutching the arm now wrapped around his chest even closer, and jerking forward until Bruce was flipping clumsily over his head.

“I’m not doing all this work to find _my_ brother just so _you_ can reap the rewards.” Dick snapped as Bruce grunted softly on the floor. “Also – I don’t take fucking _orders_ from you anymore.”

He stepped over Bruce nonchalantly, returning to his bag and zipping it closed.

“I’ll call.” He told his siblings.

“When?” Jason demanded.

“When I don’t think Damian will emotionally collapse from just looking at me.” Dick shrugged with a sad smile.

“Just…keep us in the loop.” Barbara asked quietly. Cassandra nodded vigorously next to her. “Let us know he’s at least _alive_.”

“Or if there’s anything we can do for him.” Duke added. “Anything to help.”

Dick nodded. “You guys are the best.”

He glanced back towards Bruce, let the smile fall from his lips. Bruce was still rolling onto his elbows. No one moved, or offered to help him up.

“You don’t deserve him.” Dick whispered softly. Honestly. Furiously. “And you never fucking _did_.”

With that, he left the kitchen, and everyone solemnly listened to him walk down the hall, and slam the front doort behind him.

Silently, the family each sat back down, returning to their coffee and breakfast and newspapers. No one said a word, not for the rest of the meal.

No one bothered to help Bruce off the floor either.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve got you, Damian. Now let’s get you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location is based on that page in TEC 1029 where they show Damian reading the casebook. Also, can’t tell if Damian’s new uni is black or gray based on the three issues it’s been fully seen in so...have fun with my vague guess haha. Dick sends a picture of Damian sleeping with his pets to only Barbara, the only one that I can see in canon who has given a shit about Damian and his emotional state in the last year, to confirm that he actually found him. Damian still spends a lot of his time apologizing for things that aren’t actually his fault and it breaks Dick’s heart, but he helps as best he can. Purposeful parallels to part one huzzah!

It was an old observation tower, in the historic district. Disused since the 80s, but not run down. Still owned by the city, if he was remembering correctly, and still got annual inspections, just in case it was ever needed to be reopened.

So the building was stable, just empty. And could see all of Gotham City.

Of course Damian would come here. It was so _obvious_. They touted that they were the family of the world’s greatest detectives, and it didn’t occur to a single one of them. Didn’t occur to _Bruce_.

They should all be ashamed.

Dick took a deep inhale, ignored the butterflies in his stomach, and the tears already threatening to mist over his vision.

God, he missed this kid. He missed _his_ kid.

The threat of tears was the joy he wanted to feel, the joy he knew was coming. How long did he have that stupid amnesia? How long was he gone? Too long, no matter the actual number.

The butterflies were the fact that he knew Damian. Knew what he heard on that phone call. Knew Damian was a feral cat on a good day, always ready to run, always halfway gone even if he was standing there.

It’d been a few days since they talked, what if Damian changed his mind? What if he already ran? Dick could be walking into an empty building, abandoned again, and he honestly didn’t know if he could take that. Didn’t know if he could take losing Damian again.

To death, to amnesia, to Bruce – how many times has he lost Damian already? How many times could his boy be ripped from his fingers?

He swallowed the lump in his throat and moved forward.

Damian would be here. He had to be.

He walked up to the door, locked by a numbered keypad, and saw that it was propped open. That was a good sign.

He stepped inside, and stood there for a moment, listening. There was nothing, not even the skittering of rodents. No footsteps. No hints of life at all. That was a bad sign.

The stairs were off in the corner and Dick practically ran to them, taking them two at a time. He huffed as he reached the landing, looking both ways down the expanse of the hallway that curved in front of him. There were doors along the outer walls, ones that clearly went to the rooms that could see out to the city. A few doors on the inner walls, probably closets and bathrooms and the like.

That was fine. He’d search every one if he had to.

So he started with the one closest to him.

But the butterflies turned into moths as he walked, as he checked more rooms that ended up empty. More rooms that had no hints that anyone had been there. No beds or clothes or food wrappers.

Turned into birds as he got halfway around the circle, with sharp beaks and talons, ripping at his insides. _He’s not here_ , his mind began to supply giddily. _He’s already gone. Doesn’t trust you like he doesn’t trust Bruce._

 _No_ , he tried to fight back. _He’s here. He knows I would never-_

As he caught first sight of the stairs ahead, stomach dropping knowing he’d done a full lap, he heard a door close. A heavy door, like one to the outside.

He ran, believing it to be the door he’d come in, that Damian had just left. But as he reached the landing that overlooked the lobby, he saw the door was still propped open. He glanced to another set of steps nearby. Smaller ones, that went to a rooftop entrance. He was going to check there last.

“Damian?” He finally called. He’d waited on that, in case there were other squatters here, other villains. But now that there was a sign of life, a sign someone was here, he couldn’t hold back.

No answer.

It must have been him going on the roof, Dick decided, so he rushed to the smaller stairs, and took them just as quickly as he’d taken the first set. As he reached the door, he slammed into it, throwing it open.

But…there was nothing.

Again, no signs that anyone had been up here. But almost worse than that, no signs of someone leaving either. There was no claws of a grapple hooked to the roof. No tied off rope. Not even any potential scorch or tire marks from a potential vehicle, or hookup for a glider.

So…was it Damian coming back _in_?

He’d never left the doorway, so immediately just twirled back around on his toes.

 _There_.

A door on the inner ring, one of the closets that he’d already checked, was open just a crack, but that was all Dick needed. Because he could see the dim light of the hall bouncing off a pair of eyes, the shadow of a face under a hood.

And just like the phone call: “I know you’re there, kiddo.” He smiled as he started back down the stairs, slower this time. “I can see you.”

Damian blinked, and seemed to almost shrink back, just a little.

“I’m not leaving.” Dick promised. “And if you run, I’m chasing you.”

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, the door opened just a little, like it was a twitch, or a hesitation, before pulling open completely.

Damian stood there, in an unrecognizable uniform. All dark grays and blacks, save for an almost white chest plate and silver boots.

But Dick didn’t care about that. He cared more about how tall Damian was now, and how he’d missed that growth. How Damian looked a little thinner than he remembered, and there were the starts of dark bags under his eyes.

“…You came?” Damian asked quietly, stepping forward.

“Of course I did.” Dick laughed. Those joyful tears were beginning to form in his eyes now. “You doubted me?”

He wasn’t hurt by the idea, and frankly didn’t blame Damian if he thought so anyway. He’d been hurt by so many people who claimed to love him before, Bruce and Talia number one on that list, why would Dick be any different?

“No.” Damian said simply. “I just…hoped you’d change your mind.”

Dick blinked, stepped forward. His heart broke as Damian took an immediate step back, but not towards the closet. Towards the steps to the outside.

“You shouldn’t see me like this. Shouldn’t _want_ to see me like this.” Damian murmured, dropping his gaze. “Not after what I’ve done.”

“And what did you do?” Dick asked, already knowing. Bruce had told him. The prison under Mercy Hall. Potentially killing Brother Blood. None of it mattered to him.

That wasn’t what Damian confessed to, though.

“I killed Alfred. It was my fault.” Damian said, like it was an actual fact. And Dick instantly wondered how many times he’d been told that, that he believed it. Who told him that, that he believed it.

How many times Bruce told him that, that he believed it?

“No, kiddo. You didn’t.” Dick tried softly. “Bane did, and I know you had to watch. I’m so sorry that those bastards made you _watch_ , but there was nothing you could have done.”

But Damian was shaking his head. “I didn’t try to help you.” He continued. “When…when you rejected us after you woke up, I…I guess I rejected you.”

“Convinced yourself I was gone, so it would hurt less. I get that.” Dick nodded. “I don’t blame you for that. I would have done the same thing. Hell, I _did_. Or do you forget that after you died, I left the country and pretended to be a _spy_ , instead of confront the fact that you weren’t here and our family was in shambles?”

“I never visited, I never checked in. Even Father did that, in his roundabout way.” Damian sighed, but glanced up. His eyes looked so old. So tired. “I never came after you.”

“So?”

“So why did you come after _me_?” Damian almost sounded like he was begging, hands laid out in front of him. “Why did you waste your time?”

Dick blinked, then smiled. “Because I _love_ you.”

Damian’s hands instantly balled into fists. “Well, you _shouldn’t_.”

“And like I told you before, you _don’t_ get to tell me that I _can’t_.” He took a step forward, and was happily surprised when Damian didn’t step back. “And honestly? At this point, I’m going to love you out of spite. _Just_ to annoy you. _Just_ to be an asshole.”

He took another step forward, and they were only feet apart now. Damian just stared up at him.

“…I don’t deserve it.” Damian whispered. “Not after what I’ve done. I don’t deserve _you_.”

Dick took another step forward, and now they were chest to chest. Just like he was with Bruce in the kitchen. Only now there was no anger. There was only relief.

“Opposite, actually.” Dick grinned. Damian just stared up at him in wonder. “None of us ever deserved _you_ , Damian.”

Damian blinked, and his eyes were instantly watery, his lip trembling against his will.

“…Grayson?” He breathed. And that was all Dick needed. He reached out and enveloped Damian into his arms. Held him as close and as tightly as physics would allow. Laughed when his tears fell onto Damian’s hood.

“I’m here, kiddo.” He murmured, holding the back of his head as Damian slowly returned the embrace. Squeezed as hard as he could. “I found you.”

Damian nodded, dug his nails into Dick’s back. “Thank you.”

“Titus and your cat are at my apartment waiting for you. So are a warm bed and a hot meal. Probably haven’t seen either of those in a while have you?” Dick asked softly.

“Too busy.” Damian admitted. And that’s why Dick never saw the remnants of food, or a bed. Because he didn’t sleep, didn’t eat. Focused too hard on work that wasn’t his. Just like his goddamn father.

Well, that was going to change.

“Well, not anymore you’re not.” Dick decided. He waited a moment, let them stand in silence for a second, then tightened his grip on Damian’s shoulders, buried his face against his hood. “I’m so glad I found you, kiddo.”

Damian didn’t argue this time. Just locked his hands together behind Dick’s back and repeated, “Thank you.” Another moment, and suddenly Damian tried to lean away. “…Father?”

But Dick didn’t let him. Refused to let go, refused to give Damian even an inch. “Not if you don’t want to.” Dick swore against his head. “We won’t see _anyone_ else, not if you don’t want to.”

And that seemed to be it. Seemed to be the final bit of assurance for Damian to finally accept what was happening, whose arms he was engulfed in. He all but slumped into Dick’s hold then, and let himself cry. Let himself sob like he did on the phone.

Dick only smiled.

“I’ve got you, Damian.” Dick promised. “Now, let’s get you home.” A second, then an amendment. “Let’s get you to _our_ home.”

Dick gathered Damian up in his arms, laughed when Damian grumbled about being carried, relished the feeling of holding his little brother again, of knowing he was never letting go, never losing him again, not this time – and they did.


End file.
